“Well put.”
He couldn’t seem to stop gazing at her. She had lovely eyes, light grayish blue, with long eyelashes. Her whole face brightened when she smiled. Would he ever tire of gazing at that face?
Was this conventional? He felt drawn to her, but they’d known each other mere days.
“That is not much of a story,” he said.
“What wasn’t?”
“Cinderella. Her father dies, so she becomes a servant to her stepmother?”
Adele laughed. The sound rang through the hallway. “Oh, no. The story actually has quite a happy ending. You see, the king has a ball. The stepmother takes her own daughters but forbids Cinderella. Cinderella is of good heart and has befriended animals, so when she wishes with all her heart to go to the ball, birds bring her a beautiful gown to wear. When she arrives, her stepmother does not recognize her. The prince however thinks she is beautiful and will dance with only Cinderella. He falls in love with her. But she must return home before her stepmother does, so she runs away and leaves a shoe behind. The prince declares that he will marry only the girl who fits this shoe. Only Cinderella has feet small and dainty enough to fit the shoe. So they marry and she lives happily ever after.”
Smith smiled, liking the story. “That’s quite lovely. I’m sure that was revenge on the stepmother, who likely wanted her own daughters to marry the prince.” Something about that prickled at Smith. Had he been a prince, or at least a gentleman, in the middle of a ballroom, surrounded by prospective eligible daughters? It seemed he had been.
“It is a nice story. Life does not work like that, though.”
“No?”
“Of course not. I may think of myself as Cinderella some days, toiling on chores, but no prince will fall in love with me and sweep me away from here.”
His heart ached for the way she’d given up. She deserved so much better than the hand she’d been dealt. He reached over and tucked a loose tendril of hair behind her ear.
“You are beautiful,” he said.
“Oh.” She looked down.
“Has no one ever told you that?”
“Not in a very long time.”
“Someone should tell you that every day, because it’s true.”
“I am old and on the shelf.”
“No.” Smith reached below her chin and tilted her face up so he could look at her eyes again. “You are not old. Older than this year’s new crop of debutantes, yes, but not too old to marry and have children, if that is what you most desire. Not too old to make something of your life. Not too old for this.”
He leaned down and kissed her. The vulnerability in her eyes and the slightest pout in her lips rendered him unable to resist.
This was ridiculous and he knew it. There were any number of obstacles laying between them. But enough time had gone by that he was beginning to doubt he’d ever fully recover his memories, so why shouldn’t he court Lady Adele? She was smart and beautiful and he knew he could make her happy.
She tasted lovely, too.
Dr. Willis had come by earlier that day and discussed his progress. Smith had been grateful Adele had been otherwise occupied at the time, because the doctor had asked about some basic operations of Smith’s body. Smith was relieved in a way that, as he kissed Adele, as he put his arms around her and pulled her close and felt her soft body pressed against his hardone, his body responded. In fact, he was responding now for the first time since he’d first woken up in this house.
That part of him still worked. He’d been worried it wouldn’t.
Although now he’d surely scare her, so he eased away.
She squeezed his hand. “I think it is quite likely that whatever flirtation exists between us will not last once you recover your memories.”
“Perhaps. Or not. We can’t know.” He let out a breath. He should go to his room, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave her side. “Perhaps if nothing else, this has shown me that life is never quite what you expect it to be.”
She shook her head. “That’s a nice sentiment, but—”
“If nothing else, I hope that we might be friends. If I ever go back to my old life, I’d hate to think of it without you. You’ve been so kind to me these last few days, and I did nothing to deserve that except fall out of a carriage onto your doorstep.”
“Friends. That I can do.” She glanced at her door. “I should…”
